they're a walking hr nightmare
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“Look, I have a guest room. If you want, I’d be more than happy to have you for a couple days.”
“Oh wow, Dr. Robby, I appreciate it. But I don’t want to impose.”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition. Might be nice to have company, even. Only if you want.”
“I, uh…” Robby squeezed his shoulder again, and Whitaker felt the butterflies in his stomach start to stir, fluttering against his insides and making him squirm and flush under the older man’s touch. His crush on Dr. Robby had been almost immediate upon their first meeting, and all of the touches and praise thrown his way had only fanned the flames of it. It had been a couple of weeks now, and Whitaker could swear those same strong hands and kind words were deliberately working their magic on him more frequently every shift. But it was entirely possible, and even likely, he reminded himself after each one, that he was simply seeing what he wanted to see. “Yeah. Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.”
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There’s a hand, fingers cold, on his elbow – someone trying to get his attention. Usually, usually, his staff would know that just calling his name is enough, that he’s fine-tuned to the sound of it like a dog waiting for a command. But as he looks down and then to the person the chilled digits belong to, he finds Whitaker staring up at him owlishly. A shudder goes through him, senses zeroing in on the point of contact.
“Can I help you?” It comes out bitchier than he intended, caught off-guard as he is. But he doesn’t take it back, not even when the kid bites at his lower lip as if he wants to apologize.
“I just wanted to ask if you liked the chicken parm.”
aka Robby doesn't know he's being wooed by home-cooked meals and big, honest eyes.